Tales From the Stone Road

by G R Matthews

  “Sying, send her away and you can tell me all about the tree after,” Deshi took another step.

  “She stays, you go. And while you’re gone, can I suggest that a bath would not go amiss. Even from here I smell the dust on you and believe me, it is not pleasant. Ask the servant to drop some scented oil in the bath.” She waved him away as if he was her servant, “Now, Zhī, I like the cloth you have there but do you have it any other colours?”

  The blood flooded his face as he spun about and stomped out of the tent.

  Chapter 4 – Of Apples and Weddings

  Deshi spent an uncomfortable night sleeping on the very edge of the bed, preferring the chill of the air to that emanating from his wife. He rued his decision not to bring one, or even two, of his favourite serving girls on the trip as he tugged the covers back over him.

  In the morning he was up and about early, eating a swift breakfast and attending a variety of important meetings. The first was with the engineers on the far side of the village to discuss the improvement of the road, widening and cobbling the surface. The road would see a lot of heavy traffic, carts trundling back and forth to the mines and then on, beyond the village, to the markets of the Empire proper.

  Then a meeting with the architect and the administrators to discuss the plans for the new building and the need for further development on the outskirts of the town. The tax collectors would need a troop of soldiers, who would need barracks. Both would need baths and shops to spend their pay in. They would also need a place to drink, so the building of an Inn was discussed. By the end of the allotted two hours, a new plan for the village had been laid out on the paper in front of them. The old, tiny village would be gone, replaced by a small town. The farmers would have to move a little further out as many of their homes would be taken over, in the first instance, by the builders and then knocked down to make room for the shops and market area later on.

  The final meeting with his chef was to decide upon his contribution to the wedding feast. Apparently, so Sying had heard from the old lady, it was the custom for every guest to bring some morsel of food to the wedding under the tree.

  Finally, he returned to his own tent to change into his formal clothes and meet up with Sying.

  “Do you like the dress?” Sying twirled round, showing off her new clothes. “Zhī brought it a little while ago. The material is a local invention – she tried to explain how it was made but I didn't understand much of it.”

  “It's very nice, Sying.” He stripped off a silk robe worth more than one of the houses he planned to demolish, threw it onto the bed and pulled on an even more expensive one.

  “It is beautiful and so smooth. I can hardly feel it,” Sying said. “I promised Zhī that it would be just the two of us, and Guo of course, at the ceremony. The villagers don’t need a horde of soldiers scaring everyone.”

  “Well, the village seems safe enough and I certainly don't want to spoil the bride's wedding day.” Deshi turned away from his wife and continued in a whisper, “Then she can begin the important business of ruining her new husband’s life.”

  “When you're ready we'll go,” Sying said.

  “Lead on.” He finished tying a belt around the new robe and followed her out of the tent to meet up with Guo.

  The Jiin-Wei bowed to them both, arms cradling the chef’s gift of food, “My Lord, my Lady, we must make our way to the tree. It would not do to be late.”

  As they approached the tree, the staccato cracks and snaps of firecrackers could be heard. A cloud of smoke drifted through the air, obscuring the base of the tree and the crowd of villagers who had formed a large circle there. A red carpet led down the road, away from the tree, and Deshi could make out the bride’s wedding procession approaching.

  Guo placed the gift of food on the banquet table and returned to stand guard behind Deshi and Sying. The noise from the firecrackers died down and the smoke began to clear. The groom, stood on his own next to the trunk of the tree, was dressed in a red robe. The bride, accompanied only by an elderly lady, was also dressed in red and carried a fan which she held up to hide her face from the groom. The crowd fell silent.

  The groom stretched out a hand as the bride came within reach and she entwined her fingers with his. They stood facing each other for long moment. Deshi held his breath. Their direct gaze into one another’s eyes quietened even the wind and the rustle of leaves. As they let their hands fall apart and took a step back, there was a sigh from the crowd.

  “Beautiful isn’t it,” said a feminine voice from his left.

  “Quaint,” Deshi said without looking away from the couple.

  The bride and groom bowed once, to honour the heaven and the earth.

  “I always think that as long as they get the first bow right then everything will be fine,” said the voice again.

  “It is not that hard to bow in unison,” Deshi said.

  “You think so? To me, the first bow is not with the body but with the soul. You can always tell if they feel it together.” The soft voice tickled in his ear and he looked away from the couple for the first time. The woman who stood at his elbow was beautiful. She turned, met his eyes with her own and smiled. His heart stopped and his lungs went still. He stared into her eyes until she turned back to wedding and his body remembered its job; his heart started beating and air filled his lungs.

  “I suppose the second bow, to the ancestors is just as important but they are dead and gone from the world. They stare from afar and can do little to intervene,” she said.

  “The ancestors make us who we are. Our lineage determines everything about us,” he said as he traced her profile with his eyes.

  “I prefer to believe that we make ourselves,” she said, “and now the third bow, to their parents. Here I can see what you say. The parents have played a large role in the upbringing of those two children. Their impact is written upon their actions, their hearts and faces.”

  “You must respect your parents,” Deshi said.

  “Parent’s must be worthy of respect. I’ve known some that are not.” She paused and he willed her to turn back towards him so he could look into those eyes again, “The final bow, to each other. Beautiful.”

  “And now they are married,” he said, “I wish them good luck.”

  “A good wish but if you will excuse me for a moment, I have something to do.” The young woman walked forward through the crowd of people who parted before her. Deshi reached out to prevent her from embarrassing herself at the wedding, missed and received a sword-sharp elbow in his ribs from Sying.

  She reached the couple and smiled at them, reaching out a caring hand to each and cupping their cheeks. She faced the crowd who if quiet before were silent now. Deshi looked at their enraptured faces.

  “It has been some time since the last wedding but like the birth of a child they are times worthy of celebration. And today is made even more special as we have, in our presence, the Duke and Lady of Ya’an.” She bowed in their direction and, on reflex, Deshi returned it. “I understand the reason for their visit and have high hopes that a compromise arrangement might be reached to prevent any harm. However, in this moment, I wanted to share a poem with you. My gift to the couple;

  You and I

  Have so much love

  That it

  Burns like a fire,

  In which we bake a lump of clay

  Molded into a figure of you

  And a figure of me.

  Then we take both of them,

  And break them into pieces,

  And mix the pieces with water,

  And mold again a figure of you,

  And a figure of me.

  I am in your clay.

  You are in my clay.

  In life we share a single quilt.

  In death we will share one bed.”

  She had a musical voice. The rise and falls, nuances and stresses, placed with perfect harmony. Every word found its way through the breeze into the mind of the listener, evoking e
motions and memories of happy times. Deshi raised a long sleeve to wipe away the tears that were trickling down his cheeks.

  “Now,” she continued, “I have devised a true test of the new couples love for one another. Should they pass, and am I sure they will, then eternal happiness will be theirs for the taking.” She raised her arm and an apple, attached to a smooth green cord, dropped down from the tree and hung between the couples face. “All they must do is, without using their hands, bite into the apple at the same time. In accomplishing this they will demonstrate that they are joined of heart, mind and purpose.”

  A drum began to beat a rhythm that quickened as the newly married couple smiled at each other and leant forward to bite the apple. As their mouths closed on the golden fruit it was, at the last second, whisked up and away on its cord. The couple’s mouths met not the flesh of the apple but each other’s lips in their first kiss as a married couple. The young woman laughed and the crowd followed.

  Chapter 5: Of compromise and consequence

  The wedding banquet took some time to settle down from the excited congratulations, dancing and singing. The young woman who had delivered the poem and played the trick on the newlyweds circulated through the crowd, spending time with everyone there. Her glass clear laughter cut through the general murmur of the conversation.

  “Who is she?” Deshi managed to corner the chief against one of the tables.

  “Shù,” the chief replied.

  “That’s her name but who is she?” Deshi pressed.

  “She always speaks at weddings, blessings and funerals,” the chief explained.

  “She is a Nun or Priestess?” Deshi asked.

  “Yes.”

  “She doesn’t look old enough.” Deshi glanced across at the woman who was, at that moment, dancing with one of the older men from the village.

  “She is very wise,” the chief said. “I must pay respects to your Lady, where is she?”

  “Over by the tree with Guo, my Jiin-Wei.” Deshi said absently, his gaze focused upon the dancing couple.

  “Are they truly that terrible?” A note of interest in the chief’s voice broke into Deshi’s reverie.

  “Who? The Jiin-Wei?” the chief nodded and Deshi smiled. “Skilled swordsman, trained by the Fang-shi magicians, unquestionable loyalty to the Emperor, they are every bit as you’ve heard them described. When the first Emperor created their order to be his personal guards he selected the best and brightest of his warriors. The Fang-shi trained their minds even further and taught them to use magic. The Emperor shows me his favour by placing Guo in my service. I’ve seen him quell a mob just by standing still and staring at them. I’ve seen him do magic that defies belief and seen his sword slice a fly on the wing clean in half, and he wasn’t even looking.”

  “It must be a great comfort to have your wife protected so diligently by one such as he,” the chief smiled.

  “Mmm…” Deshi turned his gaze on to the pair stood beneath the branches of the tree. They were deep in conversation. “Yes… yes, it is.”

  “I think the banquet is coming to an end.” The chief nodded at the darkening sky.

  “I must give my gifts and allow the happy couple retire to their new bed.” Deshi stepped through the crowd of villagers to the main table, raising his arms for quiet. The crowd calmed and turned their gaze on him.

  He spoke eloquently, in his own opinion, on the joys of marriage and the need for service to each other and to the Emperor. At the close of his speech he handed the customary red and gold embossed envelope to the bride and groom. He bowed to them both, to their families and to the crowd. A few minutes of polite applause marked the end of the wedding.

  “My Lord,” the chief said, “The Lady Sying and Shù have requested a moment of your time.”

  “Lead on,” Deshi followed the chief across the open space towards the tree, his wife, the Jiin-Wei and the young lady he had been speaking to earlier.

  “My Lord,” Sying said as he approached, “may I present the Lady Shù.”

  “Mistress Shù,” Deshi bowed, “that was a nice poem you read for the happy couple.”

  “I hope they can live by its words and sentiment. So many married couples find it difficult.” Her look was direct and did not waver from his eyes. “But perhaps we can come to some compromise about the tree. I understand that you wish to cut it down and replace it with administrative offices.”

  “That is correct. This is a prime location; central and on the main thoroughfare. The village will undergo other modifications to enable commerce and government to be effective,” the Duke said.

  “I had hoped that you would be open to a compromise position whereby the tree could be saved. As you can tell, it is an important part of village life.”

  “Forgive my abruptness, Mistress Shù, but the village will grow and become a town. That is unstoppable. The recent census shows that Empire’s population is rising quickly and we will need more homes and jobs. There is no lack of land in the Empire and the growth of towns is the natural consequence. Given the discovery of minerals and metals in the mountains this village is in a prime location to make the most of this opportunity.” Deshi smiled at the chief, encouraging his support in this matter, and was surprised to see a concerned expression upon the man’s face “Progress cannot be stopped, Mistress. After all, it is just a tree.”

  The chief sucked in a sharp breath and Deshi took a step back from cold hardness Shù’s eyes. He raised a placating palm, “Surely, you can see that, in the long run, everyone will benefit from these changes.”

  “You have no desire to reach a compromise?” The young woman was staring into his eyes, searching for something.

  “The plan is set and cannot be stopped.” Deshi stated, unwilling to bend.

  “I cannot permit you to go ahead, Duke Deshi.” Shù stepped forward.

  Behind her, Guo wrapped a hand round the hilt of his Jian sword, his leg sliding back to make room for the draw and give power to the lunge. Sying raised a delicate hand to her mouth, covering her shocked face.

  “You cannot permit me,” Deshi puffed out his chest and stood up as straight as he could so he could stare down at her. “Lady, you forget who you are dealing with.”

  “And you, little lordling, have no idea who you are dealing with.” Her eyes changed hue from dark autumnal brown to a bright spring green.

  Deshi felt them first around his arms, creeping, sliding, entwining and tightening. He tore at the thin tendrils of green wrapping around him. Fingers plucked at the sprouting leaves, tearing them off but still they wormed their way around his body. In short order, his arms were pinned to his side and his legs tied together. His feet left the floor as the tree branches lifted him up.

  “Guo,” he shouted, fear infecting his voice.

  “My Lord,” Guo called back, “I am stuck.”

  Deshi looked down. The Jiin-Wei’s sword was out and raised in the air but his arm was caught by the same branches that had seized Deshi. Around the bodyguard’s legs more branches were wrapping themselves, rooting him to the floor. As Deshi watched, Guo dug his still free hand into one of the pouches on his belt and threw the contents, a small ball of paper, at Shù, shouting a word as he did so.

  The paper burst into a ball of fire which sped across the gap between captured Jiin-Wei and the Lady Shù. It struck her between her shoulder-blades and she stumbled forward, smoke rising from the wound. Deshi, from his arboreal prison, smiled and called encouragement to Guo.

  Shù turned from Deshi to face Guo who was struggling to open another pouch. Now that she was facing the Jiin-Wei Deshi could see that the woman’s back. He caught his breath. Where there should have been charred skin there was a furrowed and wrinkled surface. It reminded him of the tree’s bark and already a green fluid was leaking from the wound. Guo screamed as the bonds tightened and his sword dropped from fingers that were reddened and swelling.

  “Stop,” Sying called and placed herself in front of Shù, “you’re hurt
ing him.”

  “He hurt me,” Shù said.

  “He doesn’t know,” Sying was clutching at the lady’s clothes. “Please, we had a plan.”

  Though Deshi could not see Shù’s face he could tell that his wife’s words were having an effect. He breathed a sigh of relief, anticipating relief from the strangling branches any second.

  “Keep your man under control,” Shù said to Sying.

  “I will, I will,” Sying’s eyes were full of tears. “Thank you.”

  Guo let out a cry and then collapsed as the branches released him. Deshi watched Sying rush over to the fallen Jiin-Wei and he called to her, “Get the sword.”

  Sying ignored the command and knelt down beside Guo, reaching out and stroking the hair away from his face.

  “What’s this?” Deshi cried out.

  “You care for no one but yourself.” Shù had turned back to him.

  “What are you?” Deshi’s eyes widened and his bowels loosened.

  “I am the tree, the tree is me,” Shù smiled, exposing white teeth that had earlier looked beautiful but now seemed ready to tear him apart.

  “I am Shēngmìng,” and Shù shrank, transformed into the small girl, “who told you about the importance of the tree. You didn’t listen.”

  “I am Zhī,” and she changed into the old tailor he’d seen in Sying’s tent, “to whom your wife told her problems and about the Duke who cared not for her or their son.”

  “And I am Shù,” returning to her most recent face and form, “who has tried to compromise.”

  “Let me go. If you harm me then the might of the Ya’an army will descend onto this village and destroy it all. They will cut down your precious tree and chop it into kindling,” Deshi screamed at her.

  Shù smiled at him, “I had considered that. However, your wife and I have come to an arrangement. It is a strange thing with women that we share confidences easily but trust with caution. Within those bounds we found a compromise.”